


stories told and ones forgotten

by cl3rks



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: :))), Book Loaning, Book Quotes, Bookstores, Clumsiness, Cooking, Dog adoption, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Frankenstein quotes, Gift Giving, Holidays, Implied animal abuse, Literature, Minor Violence, Protectiveness, Reader owns a bookstore, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, kind of, movie quotes, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-03 20:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 12,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12755181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl3rks/pseuds/cl3rks
Summary: You're just a humble bookstore owner, but then comes a burly man with a gravelly voice, warm eyes and an affinity for reading to pass his broken time.





	1. genres.

**Author's Note:**

> First fic since my username change!
> 
> Use to be gaskarthwolf! Anyway, yes, I have written for Frankie before. I have a fake engagement story for him that I still have to finish, but I'm hoping to post something new for it either this month or next. 
> 
> Finals, however, are coming in hot so it isn't a promise. I just wanted to write this because I just saw the first two episodes of the new show and I love it already.
> 
> PS, I wrote this on my phone -- sorry if anything is wonky.

It’s quiet when you first meet him. But you don’t meet Frank Castle, no, you meet Pete Castiglione. You remember, faintly, from your brother when he was younger that the name was also that of a baseball player.

But that didn’t matter, because what caught your attention was the burly man looking lost as he stared at the shelves. He'd been standing there for a while, your body remaining behind the front counter. After the first hour had passed, your hand remained on the baseball bat that you kept just beneath the cash register. Sure, perusing was nothing new to you. Ever since you opened your little bookstore, you found it common – it was like a library but you were actually purchasing something. 

The problem, however, wasn’t the hour he'd already clocked, it was the extra one that concerned you.

From behind the counter, you spoke, “Hey, man – I get that you might need extra cash or whatever, but you won't find much here. I barely make anything as it is, I’m living off inheritance money. I really don’t know how to use a bat to beat someone's head in, and honestly? I don’t want to learn now.”

The man's head turned to the side, as if he just registered your voice. “You just grip it right and swing,” the man said gruffly, his voice music to your little heart's ears. “But I’m not gonna knock over the joint, just lookin' for some new reading material.”

“Well, are you reading the spines?” You questioned cautiously, hand firmly gripping the neck of the bat as you moved slightly behind the counter. “Do you have one in mind?”

“What, a spine?”

“No, a book.” You reiterated, voice a little higher than your previous threatening tone. “I assume you’re reading to occupy time?”

“Don’t wanna think too much,” the burly man told you, eyes fixed on you. It was strange, when you were threatening him, his eyes were fixed somewhere behind you but the second he likely thought you were no match, he met your gaze. “Makes my brain hurt.”

You chuckled softly, nodding as you stepped out from behind the counter with the bat hanging at your side. “I feel that.”

“Help me out, then?”

“We'll start with something short – see how you like it.”

“I’m Pete,” the man told you, extending a hand for you to shake before he looked down at the bat, the weapon signaling your hesitation. He then met your eyes again, dropping it. “Pete Castilgione.”

“(First Name / Last Name).” You replied gingerly, eyes focused on his warm ones. You nodded, then, watching him. “What’re your favorite genres?”

His quizzical look made you grin.


	2. ledger.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These loans are a "just for him" deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love frankie so much end me

It wasn’t long before Pete Castilgione came back. As a few days wore on, he'd practically torn through the top shelf on a back row bookcase full of titles you had recommended. You told him to stop buying them and that, as a “just for him” deal, you’d let him loan the books rather than spending too much money.

“What if I wanna read ‘em again?” He asked you, watching you write his name and the book title in a leather ledger, putting a date on the “out” section. 

You shrugged, setting the pen down against the spotless white paper. “I’ll be here for some time, Pete. Just stop in and ask.”

He didn’t smile, he just nodded. But he got this gentle look in his dark eyes and for the smallest window of time, your heart fluttered. He thanked you with a hum as he took the book you’d signed out to him off the counter and curled his hand carefully around it. You watched him leave, broad shoulders moving as he walked and filled the doorway, the little bell jingling above the door as he pushed it open.

A exasperated sigh left your lips as he left, stuck in a dismal limbo as your shop was once more empty.

(You held onto the visual of his light blue button up straining against his back muscles as his shoulders pulled the material taut. The burly man, however, did nothing to ease the bundle of nerves in your stomach whenever he came in. There was an air about him, as though you were missing something _important_ whenever he came around. You pushed it aside in favor of exact things like the muscles bunching his shirt.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It eases me knowing that I started this fic aiming for short chapters and that I can write this fic without blowing my own expectations out of proportion. As always, I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading. ❤


	3. coffee.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reflections say a lot more than the credit people give them. (And he looks really good while drinking coffee... is that a thing?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhhhhhhh here's another chapter folks

It had been a while since Pete had started coming around and it wasn’t unusual for you to leave the building to go get a coffee from across the street, only to see him walking all burly and bunched in his thin jacket. His breath billowing like smoke past his lips as the temperature got colder with the seasonal change, before noticing you weren’t inside the bookstore and then waiting outside, as if it were rude to enter without you there – as if many hadn’t done it before.

You sighed to yourself, noticing the exact same scenario playing out today. You glanced at the young woman taking your order and asked her to add a medium black coffee onto it, watching her smile brightly at you; light skin tinged red due to the constant opening of the door, letting the cold in. 

You were walking back to your bookstore in no time, feet moving lightly against the ground, watching him glance into the bookstore again as you made your way across the street. You knew he saw you in the reflection of the window, but he hadn’t turned around yet. Because of this, you walked up beside him while extended the hot drink to him, voice melodic as you spoke;

“See somethin’ interesting inside?” You saw his eyes move from the bookshelves past the window to your reflection within it, and you could’ve gasped (all cliché like) as he took the offered coffee, fingertips grazing yours. But he shrugged, shaking his head as he brought the drink to his lips, paying no mind to the searing hot temperature of it.

“No,” he sipped, bringing the drink back down as he licked his lips, turning to look at you. “Only interestin’ thing is out here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading babes!!


	4. donations.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The seasons were changing, but it didn't seem to bother him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i don't have netflix anymore (unfortunately) but i've been debating getting it just to finish this fucking show cause i never actually did. ANYWAY, wow, two chapters in one night??? who is she???

“You could’ve gone inside,” you informed, taking the knitted scarf from around your neck. You bunched it and tossed it into the small basket you kept by the cash register. You took your coat off next, setting your piping hot beverage down on the counter. “Door was unlocked.”

“Figured you’d be back soon, anyway.” He replied gruffly, turning to go to his favorite little bookshelf in the back. You took notice of the tears in the material of his jacket (much too thin for the weather that was arriving) and sighed softly to yourself, rolling your eyes in the slightest. “Don’t wanna… intrude.”

You scoffed to yourself, watching him glance over his shoulder with something resembling emotion dancing in his eyes and tugging at the corner of his lips. “Pete is that a smile?”

“Me? Nah, never,” he played along, pressing a thick-fingered hand to his broad chest, a faux-grimace crossing his features. You tilted your head slightly, grinning to yourself at the display. “Thank you, uh, for the coffee.”

“It’s cold out, you looked like you needed it.” Your voice erred on the side of caution as you cleared your throat, watching his fingers graze the spines of books he had already read. “Hey, not to be overbearing or, you know, seem like I care too much-“

“But?”

“Is that the only jacket you have?”

He didn’t even look at you that time, hand dropping to his side as he voiced his own side of it, shoulders rolling at the mention, “I don’t get too cold these days, don’t need anything thicker.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, deciding to leave it at that. “Don’t pick anything new just yet, I’ve got a box of donations. They’ve got some character to ‘em.”

“Didn’t know the smell of cat piss counted as _character.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just kinda feel like writing tonight. thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!!


	5. digging.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't have the means to keep him, but...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn bruh i'm really out here??? three in one night, get ready for more and then absolute radio SILENCE.

You’d gone digging through your closet once you’d locked the store for the night, looking for the old hand me down from a cousin, the gigantic jacket you’d gotten when you were in tough times. He’d helped you in a pinch and helped you get the bookstore you lived in, you sighed to yourself as you felt a wave of emotion hit you before you swallowed it down and held the jacket up. 

It was a black jacket and had a _shit-ton_ of pockets, kind of like the one he already had, but it had one of those fuzzy hoods – the faux-fur being detachable, incase he wasn’t the type for it. It was a relatively untouched jacket, only having one tear on the inside pocket – but that was an easy fix, a little stitch through it and across, and it was like it never existed. 

You grinned to yourself, toeing the closet door shut when you suddenly heard a scratching sound from downstairs, your ears tuning into the intrusion. You threw the coat onto your bed and unlocked the door leading downstairs before you pushed the swinging door open slowly, instinctively moving lower until you could carefully round the counter without being seen by whatever was scratching. 

Well, that is had it been a person. You didn’t expect to see a _dog_ of all things, trying to get in. You shot up and ran for the door, unlocking each bolt to let the shaking animal inside, pulling the door shut (even with the frigid wind) and locking it back up again. 

“Hey, dude,” you muttered, cautiously watching the dog shake itself out before his tongue dropped out of his mouth. He made a quick yapping sound and you leaned down, letting him smell your hand before he licked it casually, body shaking from the freezing temperature. You motioned for him to follow you, leading him up the stairs before shutting the second door after the two of you, locking that one, as well. You watched him nose around your room for a moment before you whistled to him, seeing if he responded. “That’s a good boy!”

You petted him and led him to the bathroom, deciding you weren’t going to be getting much sleep; you had a dog to bathe now and then, in the morning, find out if anyone was looking for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yknow the drill, babes; hope ya enjoyed!!!


	6. paranoia.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You thought it was Pete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ermmmmmmmmmmmm am i okay

You heard the bell jingle above the door as you were putting a few more donations on the shelves, your foot balanced on the edge of the step-ladder. You put your other foot onto the shelf itself, precariously perched and you moved in the slightest, hearing quick steps and in your urgency to turn to see who it was, you fell on your ass. You felt your head hit the shelving, a few books coming loose and toppling into your lap as you cried out, seeing the person who had wandered in, now crouching down to help you. 

You caught a blur of the man’s face, feeling his heavy hand on your waist as he helped you up, feeling your shoulders tense and tighten as you forced your own body up. He spoke then, but you didn’t hear what he said, so you mumbled something, and he repeated it; “you okay, sweetheart?”

You frowned at the name, blinking slowly as you took in his features. He was thin and gaunt but had some hair loss around his temple, his hair was salt and peppered as was his scruff. You clenched your jaw, taking note of his round glasses and the brown cardigan he wore ( _what? Cardigan? Why should that matter?)_ and then the few sun spots he had across his forehead. Your gaze caught the slight nick in his right ear and the tattoo peeking at his collarbone from the edge of his cardigan.

“I’m – I’ll be fine.” You knew your hair was rumpled, and you felt a trickle of something down the back of your own skull, but you didn’t move. “Did you need help with a book?”

“No, I lost something last night… kind of a bulky thing, pitbull mix… his name is Harry.” The bookstore grew quiet and you heard the patter of paws above you, the old floors creaking. The two of you looked up, eyes following the noise before looking back down and meeting eyes, “know him?”

You stared at him, licking your lips before taking a deep breath. “Never seen him.”

“Well, if you happen to find him, my name is Klein.” He smiled at you, a few teeth discolored due to time, yellowing in the slightest – one even a darker brown. You found your skin feeling as though it was crawling as he took your hand and forcefully shook it. “I’ll be ‘round, sweetheart. Let me know.”

You didn’t move but instead blinked and he was gone. You moved from your space only when the bell jingled, waiting a minute before flying to lock the door. You turned the sign over and breathed shakily, not really knowing how to process the entire situation that had just occurred. You now knew that _Harry_ had an owner named _Klein_ and the latter made your skin crawl, making you want to shower due to paranoia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed!!! :3


	7. jacket.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, there's that going for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh am i just finishing this story or smth

You were on shaky legs for a few days and not seeing Pete was making you even more nervous – but perhaps it was better, maybe then he wouldn’t get the chance to ask about the bandage on the back of your head. 

Luck, however, was not dealing you the fortunate hand. 

You turned your head when you heard the door jingle, hand flexing against the bat that it was gripping, but you saw Pete fill the doorway and let go of the wooden sport item. 

“I have something for you!” You told him, completely forgetting you were attempting to avoid him as you darted up the stairs for the jacket. You felt woozy as you reached the top and forced yourself to take a deep breath, pulling the jacket off the bannister railing just before your locked apartment door. You carefully went back down the stairs, seeing Pete waiting for you at the bottom of them, which, honestly, made your heart flutter. “Here.”

You thrust the item forward and watched his eyebrows furrow. “What’s this?”

“A jacket, Pete! I dug it out for you because I had an old one… it should fit, I think. I know you said you didn’t need anything but-“ You cut yourself off, taking another deep breath as you shook the jacket in front of him. He tilted his head to the side, taking it. “There, now I won’t bug you.”


	8. safe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your bookstore is his bookstore is... a shared bookstore?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) i love frank but i hate calling him PETE

“What happened?” Pete asked, tone gentle as it erred on the side of concern. “The back of your head, why’s it all…?”

You swallowed then licked your lips, your eyes suddenly more curious as to what your own beat up shoes looked like more than his handsome face. 

“Hey, if you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s fine.”

“No, uhm… I should, actually.” You paused, clenching your jaw as you glanced outside. “I found this dog, or, well, he found me last week. His name is Harry and he belongs to this guy named Klein. The guy came in a couple days ago, asking if I had seen his dog. But I told him I hadn’t.”

“So, he hit you?” Pete was almost seething, and you hadn’t even told him the whole thing.

You shook your head, wincing at the movement. “I fell off my little ladder when he came in, I was startled, is all. Tumbled onto my ass, like a real klutz, and hit my head on the shelf. Concussion, doctor said, I’ll be fine.”

Pete’s eyes narrowed, almost like he was squinting to see you better. His gaze was so intense that when you looked back to him, you couldn’t meet it, you just looked away once more. “Where’s the dog?”

“Upstairs,” you frowned slightly, watching your favorite bookworm move his shoulders slightly. He folded the jacket over his muscular forearm as he came a bit closer to you. “Pete, what-“

“Do you need me to stay here, maybe to look out for things when you’re running errands or… whatever?” This was the most you’d ever heard this man speak, and it was more mind blogging than Klein, the creepy dog guy. “I’m not doin’ it to try nothin’, alright, I swear, I just wanna make sure you’re safe, is all.”

“No, I’ll be fine, I don’t wanna put you out.”

“Are you scared?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m stayin’, gimme twenty minutes.”


	9. walk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The recliner wasn't as comfortable as he led on, but he would never complain about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all been knew

You fell asleep a bit easier that night, knowing Pete had a thicker jacket to keep him warm. 

(Also knowing that he was in the old recliner by the stairs with a book in his lap, reading in the dark despite your protests. He swore that if you ever heard footsteps up the stairs to wait for the knock he’d worked out with you and that if there was no knock, that it wasn’t him.)

You felt Harry shift on the bed at your feet, and you looked at him. You watched him worm his way up the bed to lay beside you, causing you to chuckle. “You look more like a Rocco, buddy.” 

(After you woke up and went downstairs to open, you noticed Pete watching you the entire time, _Rocco_ now following you everywhere.)

“Thought the dog should stay upstairs?” He questioned from his recliner, eyebrow raised in the slightest at your hum.

You shrugged in response, plaid pajama pants swaying at the ankles as you moved, turning the sign on the door to ‘open’ before unlocking it. “Rocco deserves a good walk around, besides, I need to actually walk the poor fella, Pete.”

He didn’t argue with you, nor the name change.


	10. rocco.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soon, Pete, Klein shall get what's coming to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im stopping here for tonight, but more will be posted soon. thanks for reading, as per usual, and can't wait to post more chapters!! (don't worry, klein is nothing to worry about... just yet, anyway.)

Pete told you that he would walk Rocco, but you protested and said you could. You knew you had to be careful, considering the big guy had no collar nor leash, so you couldn’t let him out of your sight. Pete went with, despite your words, and, as you saw Klein across the street, you felt your chest tighten and knew you were glad he’d come with for a reason.

“Pete, hey – we need to turn around. Uhm, now… please, we need to turn around now,” you told him, motioning Rocco to follow you. The dog did but Pete glanced at you and to where you had been looking, noticing the man as you wanted to avoid the confrontation. 

“Harry!” Klein called, and the dog whined at his old name. “Harry! C’mere boy!”

“Rocco, c’mon baby.” He followed your much more tender voice, his steps matching your equally quick ones as Pete kept pace. “Can we move faster?”

Pete nodded curtly, feeling his blood boiling at the sight of the boring man. He wanted nothing more than to slam his head into the pavement at that point, but he hustled you along and made certain Klein didn’t follow.


	11. glass.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's how these things begin, right?

So, that’s how it truly started, huh? Some guy _really_ wanted his dog back and you weren’t giving in so Pete just _had_ to stay with you. It had been a couple of weeks since you’d last seen Klein, and, because of that, you were kind of hoping he’d just… gone away.

You were coming in the back with a few bags of groceries, the brown paper digging into your jacket sleeve as Rocco approached you at the door. You smiled at him and were about to set your bags down onto the counter when something occurred to you…

You’d left Rocco upstairs before you’d gone out, the downstairs was a bit too cold for him and, now, you as well. You looked towards the front door and saw a chunk of glass missing from the door itself, right near the lock. You felt your blood run as cold as the building you were standing in, swallowing harshly as your breath became uneven. Your anxiety faltered for a moment as you looked at Rocco, seeing bits of red near his mouth. You held him for a moment, looking at his bloody muzzle and the slash mark near his shoulder. 

You took your phone out and found Pete’s number, something he told you was emergencies only, but you checked the time and took Rocco by the new collar you’d gotten him and left the way you had come. You knew Pete would be around shortly and as you started up the street, you saw the burly man in question.

(For a mere moment, your anxiety was eased.)


	12. blood.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are those feelings you're catching?

“He was in my apartment,” you told him as the two of you walked briskly back to the bookstore, Rocco nudging Pete’s hand the entire time. “He broke into the bookstore, went upstairs and broke Rocco out.” 

“Why didn’t Klein take the dog?”

You motioned to your own face as the two of you reached the front door before gently taking Rocco by the collar and having him sit. “He bit him, don’t know where, but he bit him. Rocco has this, like, knife mark near his shoulder.”

“Did you go up?”

“No.” You paused for a moment as Pete pushed open the door with the sleeve of his (the one you gave him, to your delight) jacket. “I wanted to… I wanted to wait for you, actually.”

You saw him stop moving for a second, had you blinked you would’ve missed it, but he then continued to the stairwell. You and Rocco followed him up, the dog whining for a moment before you eased him up the stairs, the bulky animal trusting you enough to go back upstairs. You saw blood on the ground, more than what was on Rocco, and you nearly screamed. 

“Is that…?”

“It’s not Rocco’s, (Name).”

You breathed a sigh of relief.


	13. pasta.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, he's catching them, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLOWBURN BABY

He cleaned up the blood and you made him pasta in return. Rich tomato sauce with chunks of Italian beef throughout it, penne pasta tossed in parmesan and romano cheese, with basil, oregano, and garlic – Christ, he was in heaven.

He did this _thing_ when he enjoyed something, where he’d kinda lean forward and tilt his head, this _cute_ little humming sound vibrating from deep in his chest. You found yourself staring at him from across the table, elbows perched on the chipped wood, your hands folded beneath your chin as you watched him. 

“Good?”

“You’re killin’ me, baby,” it slipped out, you were certain of it, but he froze for a moment, realizing it, and the two of you met eyes for a moment before you tilted your head. “Best damn thing I’ve had in ages.”

“Good, you deserve it.”

(You could make a stone man cry.)


	14. flannel.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calculations are best done when feelings aren't involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

You asked him to stay upstairs that same night, telling him you had a perfectly good couch, “not as comfy as a recliner, I’m sure,” you remarked with a slight smile on your face as he tried to turn you down.

“I can sleep in the recliner.”

“Mhm, but I said you’re sleeping up here,” you replied easily, handing him a few blankets as you tossed a pillow over the back of the couch to land where his head would lay. “Rocco needs a buddy, anyway.”

He didn’t say anything more, only clenched his jaw and squinted, his long hair and beard making him look like a lumberjack with the flannel he was wearing. 

“Go to bed, Pete, I’ve got a door to replace tomorrow.”


	15. name.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things were making a bit more sense now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all klein ain't a good dude just fyi

You had taken Rocco to the vet over the weekend and some nurse mentioned that there was a dog who looked like him that had come in every few months, looking as though he’d been hit by a car, whining, and crying anytime his owner came near him.

“What was the dog’s name?”

“I shouldn’t even be telling you any of this to begin with,” she told you as she helped Rocco onto the table, but you quirked a brow, telling her surely the name wasn’t too big of a concern. She swallowed and sighed softly, turning around as she went to open the swinging door behind her. “Harry.”

You looked at Rocco then the cut near his shoulder, thumbing over the scar you had noticed behind his ear, the one that blended into his sandy coat before you watched the nurse leave the room.


	16. bad.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The question is a thoughtful one, you think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a lotta good in this world and klein ain't it, chief

You ran into Klein by your bookstore, your heart hammering in your chest as he passed you. He had a smile on his face, Rocco whining beside you as he began nervously pacing around your legs, your frozen stance causing him to try pulling you in the opposite direction of the man he knew. 

“They told me what you did to him, down at the animal hospital,” boldly, you spoke. Your voice was slightly shaky, the idea of this man having been in your apartment made every fiber of your being retch itself into high-alert. “The nurse said he came in looking like he got hit by a car, every few months, like clockwork.”

“Maybe he did get hit by a car,” Klein responded, gray eyes boring holes into your own eyes. “But I think you should leave it alone, sweetheart, and give me back my dog.”

“How bad of a person do you have to be to beat a dog? They trust you so much and you just… take that from them!” You spat at him, your anxiety was through the roof. You felt like you were trying to swallow a lump, your eyes holding and blinking back whatever wet was forming there. You glanced down at the bandage on his hand, the tape-job looking like he’d done it himself. “You deserve whatever you get, asshole.”

(He gave you a sly smile, nodded his head lowly, and left your presence without another word. His demeanor had you hoping Pete wouldn’t mind couch surfing for another night.)


	17. salad.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do friends do this?

“What happens if Klein breaks in again?” You asked as you moved some salad around your plate, your leg bobbing aimlessly beneath the table. You felt a large hand touch your knee and it startled you, causing your leg to shoot up and hit the table, knocking it to the side as Pete pulled his hand from between the table and your knee. “Sorry.”

“S’kay, I’m here.”

“But if he breaks in again and _I’m_ here –“

“I’ll be here, too.” You met his eyes as he stabbed a cherry tomato with his fork, biting down on the tomato once it was past his lips. He smiled slightly at you, forcing a bigger grin to split onto your own face. “Now eat.”


	18. reading.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've always read to my animals, they tend to enjoy music, too. let me know if yours do, as well.

You were dressed in some old, oversized t-shirt with a pair of flannel pajama pants beneath it as you pulled the covers back on your bed. You slipped beneath them, reaching to turn off the light when you saw Pete sitting up, leaning against the armrest of the couch with a book in his lap. You noticed Rocco beside him and squinted, hearing the faintest of words; he was reading to the dog.

“Do you always do that?” 

Pete didn’t skip a beat on his line, pressing his thumb against the sentence to hold his place while he looked over his shoulder, meeting your eyes. He liked looking at you more these days, you realized, especially when you weren’t at your days best… like just before bed, for instance.

“Only when he flops his ass down next to me,” Pete replied easily, a humorous tone on his tongue and, to your delight, causing Rocco to yap something that of a much smaller dog, not one his size. “He enjoys Mary Shelley.”

“Good to know.”


	19. toothbrush.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's okay, he needs to realize that.

You woke up because Rocco was pulling at your covers, yanking them from you as Pete rushed to grab him by the collar, gently pushing him back with his other hand. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, your vision blurry as you rubbed your eyes the rest of the way, seeing Pete standing there in an old looking beater, the white tank top pulling across his muscles beautifully. You saw the plain white toothbrush dangling from his mouth, toothpaste dribbling from the side.

“You have a toothbrush here?” You questioned softly, hearing Rocco huff as Pete backed him up the rest of the way. He went to your little bathroom and spit, rinsing his mouth out with water and then rinsing the toothbrush before shoving it into whatever he brought with him. “I’m not angry, or anything, just wondering.”

“It’s easier than running home.”

“Why do you run home?”

“Jus’ wanna be back here in time… make sure everything’s all good.”

You didn’t reply to that, only laid back down and felt your heart punching its emotions deeper into your chest and brain. Rocco gave up and walked over to his water dish before licking at the empty food dish that was filled not even a few minutes ago.


	20. hug.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're good for showing appreciation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sLoWbUrN MeAnS nO EyE cOnTaCt FoR ThIrTy FiVe ChAptErs... close enough :)))

You gave him a mug, it had a dumb Frankenstein joke on it, but you told him to put his toothpaste and toothbrush in it. You threw his floss in there, as well, because he’d left it on the counter by mistake, misplaced it the night before.

“Wanna go get coffee?” You asked Pete as he sat on the couch, neatly folding the laundry load you had done for him. “Unless you’re busy.”

His hand came up to scratch the side of his face, his beard scratching his skin. He’d probably shave it at some point. 

“Jus’ laundry… would you like me to go with?”

“Yes, please.” You watched him stand and reach for his jacket, swinging it behind himself to push his arms through the sleeves with little ceremony. You smiled and swiftly dashed over to him, wrapping your arms around his wide frame just as his heavy hand caught your waist, making you look into his eyes for a moment, just as you pulled back. His beard tickled your skin as your cheek grazed his, making you wiggle your nose as he watched you. “Much appreciated…”

He didn’t reply, but his thumb found its way under your shirt and stroked the skin near your hip, maybe on purpose, maybe by accident, you didn’t care; you ignored it and left his grasp, demanding he follow much faster than the pace he was going.


	21. frankenstein.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scholars aren't just those with degrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> frankie thinks a lot around that hour

_3AM._

Every morning he woke up at 3AM, on the dot. You didn’t know why, but you knew he did. You’d wake up when Pete did, not as violently, naturally. He was breathing heavy, trying to muffle it. Sometimes he’d turn the light on, but most times he didn’t; he’d get up, go to the bathroom, shut the door, flick on the light, and wash his face. He’d repeat the process backwards, so he didn’t wake you, but one night, you asked him about it.

Rocco whined softly as you moved your feet, your body shifting to pull yourself up the bed. You flicked on your table lamp and watched his shirtless form cross the small apartment, the black pants he wore low on his hips made your eyes linger for a moment before your gaze traveled to his dark eyes.

“Pete?” You posed softly, tone inviting of an answer. He turned slightly, obviously not having seen the table lamp flicker on nor did he hear it; clearly absorbed in his thoughts. 

“Sorry, ba-“ He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck, catching the nickname. “Didn’t mean t’wake you.”

You shifted again, watching him pull your copy of Frankenstein off the cherry-brown coffee table, the book cover catching and slipping over the few scuffs the table had. “It’s okay… but are you?”

He didn’t reply, and you heard him open the book, turning to the chapter he had been on. You pushed the covers back and swung your legs out, going over to the couch. You turned the lamp on, allowing him some light to read. You walked past him as he picked his legs up and settled back in and, to his surprise and curiosity, you sat down on the other side of the couch, pulling your own legs up to your chest. In the dim light, you could’ve sworn you saw the shadow of a smile etching itself at the corner of his chapped lips, his eyes crossing the page slowly;

“Read to me?” His eyes moved to your face, fingers faltering in their movements as Rocco hopped off the bed and wandered over to the two of you, jumping onto the couch and settling himself between the two of you. He flopped onto Pete’s outstretched legs and breathed softly as your hand pressed to his stomach, giving Rocco a gentle belly rub. “Or, I can read to you?”

He wouldn’t admit it for some time, but he adored the sound of your voice and, in a way, confessed it as he debated his surrender of the book to your hands. But he, again, found his place and cleared his throat, tired eyes staring at the words before he spoke. _“I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”_

His gravelly voice was all you heard as you softly doused Rocco with affection and as Pete watched you, slowly drifting off, you corrected him; “that’s not in the book, Pete, that’s from that _damn_ movie.”

His lips quirked upwards in the form of a delighted grin that you craved, “jus’ wanted to see if you were payin’ attention.”


	22. snack.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete needed to be a bit more subtle... not that you minded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh i have to constantly check and make sure i didn't accidentally put the name frank lmao

It became a bit of a habit, sitting on the couch while Pete read to you. But one night, you two were sat besides each other, Rocco flopped across the both of you. Pete was reading another chapter of _Frankenstein_ as you drifted off, eyelids heavy and eyesight bleary as you shifted in the slightest, pulling the flannel blanket up over you and Rocco, but Pete didn’t seem to mind the lack of it; he was a human radiator, anyway.

You woke up curled into his side, his arm wrapped around you, muscles heavy against your body as you stirred. He didn’t move, you furrowed your brows – Rocco had gotten up already, clawing at his food bowl. You checked the diner style clock on the wall, eyes focused on the numbers; _9:02AM._

It was early, yet you carefully pulled yourself away from Pete and stood, going to feed Rocco. You heard a gruff sound and turned, hair tickling your cheek as you moved. “I fed ‘im, he’s lyin’ to you…”

You chuckled softly, petting Rocco gently. “Sure, but maybe he just wants a snack?”

Pete eyed you, your oversized sweater falling in a comfortable fashion over your black sweatpants. (He was pretty sure they were his, he had three pairs, all of which had found their way to your apartment but couldn’t find the third.) You looked… cozy – like home, if one can describe a person that way – relaxed and… comfortable. Every synonym for it, you looked it, and as days went by, he found his heart growing fonder of that look.

Of you parading around the bookstore in jeans and a sweater, perhaps with shoes on your feet, sometimes just socks but mostly slippers. He swallowed and shrugged slightly, the action not really fitting him, “me, too.”


	23. lifeblood.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a bit... emotional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BACKSTORY!

He asked if you needed help one day, sorting through the old boxes in your closet. You were sat on the floor, stretched out with different piles surrounding you and only one empty box flattened near you. You frowned slightly, squinting at him as a mock show of annoyance. 

“Me? Needing help with a decision? Unlikely!” You chuckled then, watching him sit on the desk chair you had. You pulled a box forward and then pushed it over to him. “This is from my cousin, well, one of the smaller things.”

“Is there a larger thing your cousin gave you?” Pete was careful, he knew not to ask question he didn’t already know the answer to… but you made the man curious. 

You sighed and looked away from him, patting the ground beside you. “This bookstore, he gave me this bookstore. My life, my foundation – “ You took a breath, eyes closing at the thought. “I’m living off the money he left me.”

“You two were tight, then?”

“Grew up next door, we told each other we’d start a fund, whoever died first got the other’s,” you laughed dryly at the thought, opening your eyes, and turning your head to turn to Pete who had nothing short of a sour look on his face. “Hey, that’s how Nicholas was, Pete – pessimistic, but he was my best friend... brother I never had.”

You didn’t notice the few tears escaping your eyes until you sniffled, Pete tossing you one of the old dishrags from the box he had in front of him. You thanked him and looked down, “it’s his lifeblood, this place, kept it just for me – knew I had a dream, never wanted to go to college or… anything, just wanted to be comfortable.”

“Sounds like a good guy.”

“Wish you could’a met ‘im, I really do.”


	24. curtis.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, there are blessings in disguise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> curtis is one of my faves tbh

There was a rack of winter clothing items you put up in your bookstore, available for purchase for the better items and, for the ones in worse shape, although still good, free for those who gave you a quote from their favorite book. Pete was out with Rocco, taking him for a walk when a dark-skinned man walked in, introduced himself as Curtis, told you he had a few people in need of warm, winter wear.

He talked to you about his mission, the veterans he helped – the one he’s been for some time.

You gave him quite a bit of the clothing, without a quote or payment, and he thanked you, told you he’d be by again some day for a few books.

(Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Klein wander past the bookstore, and kept your conversation with Curtis going until you were certain he wouldn’t be there.)


	25. cooking.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can't come into my god fearing home and tell me that frank castle can't cook. man's italian, folks, ain't no way his momma never taught him anything.

He enjoyed watching you cook but you found there was something to sneaking in and watching him, too. His arms moving in the slightest, gestures light as he sprinkled ingredients into the grand scheme or stirred something. You found he enjoyed tasting things, nearly ate half the damn food because of it. 

You giggled to yourself as you carefully pushed the door open, hearing Rocco’s paws on the floor as he moved to greet you. You shushed him, hearing the stove’s overhead fan on and hopping Pete didn’t hear you. Your plight was dismantled quickly, however, when Pete turned around and offered you some sauce he’d made; “scratch, like mom use t’make.”

You rolled your eyes, deciding not to ask _how did you know I was here?_ and instead take the offered spoonful, licking your lips and moaning once it hit your taste buds. The sauce was thick, but not too thick, it tasted rich and had a hint of wine, you could taste all the herbs and spices he’d put into it, and curiously, it tasted like yours but was more… _tangy?_

Pete had his eyes on you the entire time and when you let out that delighted moan, his gaze was unreadable. Rocco came up, broke whatever tension was there, and whined. 

“Not for you!” You chided, looking down at the bulky dog. “I love you, but it’s not for you, baby.”

“It’ll be done in twenty,” Pete told you, going back to his cooking. You raised an eyebrow, watching him as he adjusted the dishrag he had tied around his head, the thing holding his hair back. “Settle in.”

You cut the conversation to your observation, eyeing him, “ever thought about cutting your hair short, Pete? I think it’d look good… you’d have to get rid of the beard, though, looks a little…”

“Say hipster and this food is goin’ in the trash,” Pete’s tone was humorous as you jabbed at his hip, hearing him make a sound of faux-pain. “I mean i!”

“Okay, okay – I’ll go get comfy on the couch.”


	26. looming.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's danger near.

You felt a looming presence when you were alone in the bookstore and that was happening increasingly, especially when Pete took Rocco out for a walk. (It surprised you how easily he replied to Rocco instead of _Harry.)_ Sometimes you swore you heard the bell jingle, yet you never heard any steps around the small building nor any jingling signifying someone leaving. 

One night, when Pete was brushing his teeth, you were half asleep on the couch, some old rerun on the television and you _thought_ you heard pounding footsteps and rattling of the door, even screaming, and it jolted you fully awake. You saw Pete open the door, patting his chin dry as you breathed heavily, heart racing within your chest. A concerned look crossed his features, but only for a moment, and you were careful to make sure you checked the door twice.

(You put a chair in front of it as he gave you a quizzical look, “a bad feeling,” you explained, shoulders slumped as you wandered over to the couch. You willingly pressed yourself into his side as he watched you, cracking open the near-end of _Frankenstein_ before beginning.)


	27. chair.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You hoped you'd never find out if it was effective or not.

You weren’t sleeping, it was obvious. You’d be awake when Pete fell asleep, you’d be awake when 3AM rolled around, you’d be awake for the rest of the time after and, most likely, so was he. Your entire sleep schedule changed, you felt sluggish everyday but weirdly aware and awake. You thought you saw movement in the edges of your vision, but rarely was anything there, but you couldn’t explain it. You jumped when Rocco nudged your leg and you nervously shifted when Pete walked too close to you, but you couldn’t figure it out.

You double-checked your windows, always checked the door, and you always made sure the chair was in front of it, hoping it would get knocked over if someone tried to break in.

That was your burglar alarm…; a fuckin’ _chair._

(Rocco, too. Don’t forget about him.)


	28. promise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothin' and nobody.

“You need to-“ Pete muttered, swatting at your legs as you attempted to curl them further against your chest. “Unwind.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ve never seen someone lock their windows as securely as you,” Pete replied, settling onto the couch next to you. “You’ve got duct tape across the locks, (Name).”

“That’s a lotta talk for someone who probably doesn’t have to worry about unwanted guests.” You spat, clearly irritated at his comment. You pulled your sweater up and over your knees, keeping yourself sat in the corner of the couch. Your back was pressed harshly into the couch’s arm, causing the loose material to catch your sweater higher up on your back and bite into your skin. “Someone sees you through a window and decides they don’t want a foot up their ass that night… _simple.”_

“I hate to brag, but…” He chuckled softly, a gentle, but still gravelly sound in his chest. Pete glanced towards you and sighed something choppily, bringing a hand up to scratch at his beard. “Listen, nothin’ and nobody, is gonna get you while I’m here.”

You looked to him, eyes visibly tired with the lines beneath them to prove to others the amount of sleep you _weren’t_ getting. “Promise?”

“Promise.”


	29. brunch.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not just in bed.

You passed out on the couch and woke up to Pete carrying you back to your bed, mumbling about how you were, _“takin’ up the whole couch,”_ not that he minded, it was yours after all; he was sure to mention that. You groaned softly, soon falling back into your slumber as he tucked you into your old bed. 

You were awake late the next morning, hearing Pete doing his best to be quiet in the kitchen as he whipped up a late brunch. You sat up slowly, mouth watering at the smell of scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Your growing caffeine headache cried for coffee or tea, whatever he decided to make was good with you, you didn’t care, you just needed it. 

He wandered over to you once he noticed you were awake, telling you to relax til he brought you a bit of food. 

(You did as you were told, obviously, you wanted that damn food!)


	30. frank.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talks are hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))

You were straightening another box of donations, mind still hazy from your (dwindling, now, thanks to Pete harassing you to do so) sleep, when Pete said he needed to talk to you. You noticed Rocco flocking to him more now and it made your heart flutter happily, but the mention of a _talk_ made you nervous… it never hesitated to.

“What’s up?”

“I need to tell you… about who I am.” Pete’s voice was lower than it normally was, his fingers folded together with his hands clasped in his lap. He decided to sit close to you, but not too close. “I, uh, didn’t think things would… get like this, I just wanted to read a damn book, y’know? Didn’t think I’d get this deep.”

You disregarded the meaning behind his words, squinting as you pushed the donation box a bit away from you. “Pete, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me, what do you mean ‘get this deep’?”

“My name’s not Pete,” he told you, gauging your reaction. You weren’t getting whatever he was trying to tell you. “It’s Frank.”

“Okay? So, what, like a middle name?” You took your lower lip between your front teeth, rolling it there and nibbling the chapped skin. “I don’t get the point, your name is Frank, whatever.”

“No,” he sighed, bringing a hand up to rub across his face. “Frank is my _real_ name, not a middle name.”

“So, no Pete?”

“No Pete.”

“Okay, and?” Your tone was a bit more disinterested than it likely should’ve been, but you _clearly_ weren’t getting _whatever_ he was trying to articulate. Normally, he was straight to the point, this was-

“My name is Frank Castle.” Your eyes caught his in that moment and you took a deep breath, letting it out suddenly, anger and anxiety flooding your veins, panic and adrenaline attacking the issue at hand. _That Frank Castle? The guy fucking shit up beyond recognition, deep in the throes of Hell’s Kitchen and anywhere in New York he happens to land?_

“Oh.”

_Oops._


	31. out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shouldn't have lied.

You watched him pack whatever _shit_ he had in your apartment and, for the four minutes (and twenty-two seconds) he took to bring it all together, you had a moment of peace from your paranoid thoughts and actions. Rocco whined and followed him as he went to the door, moving the chair out of the way, you wanted him _out_ you didn’t give a single _shit_ if someone was watching you, this was a _huge_ lie and it wasn’t even _remotely_ fair for him to hide it from you like that.

“Don’t talk to me,” you snapped as he stood in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at you. “Don’t say a word, just go.”

He clenched and unclenched his jaw, looking over to Rocco for a moment as you stood your ground, arms crossed over your chest. Your eyes were filled with rage and locked on him, following his every movement, every twitch of his fingers, anything he did, you saw it. His eyes said it all, _sorry._

(Too little too late, eh?)


	32. mistake.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check your facts before you make a mistake.

The next week went by in a blur, you were passing out regularly from lack of sleep; if you weren’t eating, shitting, or showering; you were sleeping. You felt lethargic, you looked like it, too, _shit_ a _zombie_ looked better than you did, especially when you went to walk Rocco.

You had this thing about going out at night, wondering if you could just let him out the back and it’d be okay, but, oh _no!_ Your individual relationships with luck, fate, and fortune seemed to blend together into a shit-smoothie, because anytime you walked him, you swear you heard footsteps behind you. 

Christ, you _knew_ you heard footsteps behind you. Rocco whined, drew nearer to you as you rounded a corner. But you all about had a heart attack when some young women did the same thing, nearly walking into you, shouting about how _cute_ your dog was, one of them even stopping to pet Rocco for a moment – much to his delight – before continuing their way. You felt relieved when you saw your bookstore’s sign in the distance, knowing it was just a brisk walk before you reached it.

The air was cold, and it felt _bitter,_ the light snow crunching beneath your feet as Rocco seemed to enjoy the wet slush beneath his, already having refused the little doggie shoes for his front paws. (He wore the ones on his back paws, you didn’t get it.)

But as you were walking, you thought someone was reaching for your coat. You glanced behind you to peek, but saw nothing, and turned around to see a flash of a light or something and cried out, falling onto your ass and into the slush as you saw that stupid fucking _cardigan._

“Leave me alone, you prick!” You screamed, flailing in the slush. Some older man, not _Klein_ rode past you on his bike, giving you dirty look. You saw his cardigan and stood, embarrassed with yourself at your mistake. Your entire back, down to your ankles, were now wet and Rocco was barking at you, making you frown intensely. You mumbled to yourself, shaking your head, “sorry.”


	33. wrong.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are confusing.

You hadn’t seen Klein for a while, wishing your paranoia to calm down – you weren’t being watched. You weren’t, you tried to convince yourself, but you couldn’t. Your mind wouldn’t’ shake the feeling, your skin still crawled, your eyes still caught every movement, your heart still raced… and you still missed ~~Pete.~~

_Frank._

His name is _**Frank Castle.**_ He _kills_ people like it’s nothing. He takes lives that are _not_ his to take. It could be argued that he’s cleaning up the streets, but is that ethical standpoint yours to debate? You weren’t sure – but you _missed_ him. You missed his gravelly voice, that stupid beard, the hipster-length hair, the man-bun jokes, the reading aloud, his presence, the cooking, and the welcoming feeling… most of all, you missed waking up curled against his side, the smell of him warm and cozy, like the feeling you get when drinking hot chocolate on a chilly Autumn day.

That’s what you missed, but that was all Pete and not Frank, wasn’t it?

_(Was it?)_

A vigilante of that degree can’t be that gentle, can he?

_(Can't he?)_

No, you didn’t miss him, you missed the idea of what he portrayed himself as… right?

_**(Wrong.)** _


	34. cut-off.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally.

It had felt like years had passed since you kicked Frank out, but it had only been two weeks; you felt like shit and looked like it, too. You limited yourself to going out. You only _really_ went grocery shopping and the fresh air you enjoyed, even on a remote scale, was the air you breathed when you took Rocco out for walks.

Sometimes you wondered what it would have been like had you told him to stay, had you told him it was _okay,_ the things he did… but was it really? You weren’t sure about too much these days, let alone _that._

But it happened like you thought it would, the distance was what _he_ needed to make his move. Frank was gone, and you had no brick wall keeping you safe, nothing to keep him from you.

Sure, one could argue you didn’t need someone else to keep you safe, _you_ kept you safe, but it was nice to have an intimidating man to do it for you. It didn’t make sense to you, in all honesty, why Klein just _didn’t_ take Rocco back.

Was it the principle? That you had “taken” the dog and that it wasn’t just about the sandy coated animal anymore, but you, standing in Klein’s way? So long as you were in the equation, he would never get away with it. But, if you were subtracted from it, people would let whatever he’d been doing to that animal go, but was that the point, here? 

You didn’t know. Again, you weren’t sure about _jack-shit_ anymore.

You heard footsteps behind you again, and this time you were certain. You debated it for a block and decided it was time, you _knew_ that this was it, you couldn’t take it anymore. You pulled out your phone and dialed, still having Frank in your phone under _Pete._

It rang and rang, then rang some more – he didn’t pick up. Your already racing heart picked up, because he was your plan, and it was falling through. You tightened your hold on Rocco’s leash as you led him back to the bookstore, dialing again only to hear more ringing. You opened the bookstore’s door and unclipped Rocco’s leash, shuffling him inside before closing the door, glancing to your side to see the shadow of someone but not the person. 

You got Frank’s voicemail and it was the basic message of the automated system. Rocco started barking frantically as you stepped away from the door, leaving him inside.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, speaking slowly, “I’m about to do something _really_ stupid and I just… if you never hear from me again, I’m sorry I never asked you about what you did, to try to understand. Because if I –“ You took a shaky breath, hearing steps behind you once more, your own picking up pace. “Just take care of Rocco, please.” 

You hung up and dialed again, trying him again, leaving another voicemail as you walked to the alley behind the bookstore, you were certain the message-box would pick up Rocco’s anxious barking, the violent sound cutting through the night’s air. 

“If you get this in time, I’m in the alley behind the bookstore, please, I just…” You knew who was behind you as you met the cut-off point of the chain-link fence, your eyes blinking back slight tears. “Don’t let this go to waste, I’m _begging_ you. Get here in time, Frank, please. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done and I’m really regretting it right now.”

Your voice had dropped to a whisper halfway through your plead. You hung up as you finished the message, taking another deep breath as you tucked your phone into your pocket, turning around as you put your back to the baseball bat you had placed into the alley. If you took a few steps back, you’d be able to grab it. You met eyes with Klein, a knife in his hand, and your blood ran cold.

 _Christ,_ you weren’t expecting that.


	35. alley.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe help was necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick warning: 
> 
> there is VIOLENCE in this chapter, fam. warnings include:  
> \- use of knife to threaten/slash  
> \- choking, and not the kinky kind  
> \- stalking / inflicted paranoia   
> \- mentions of abuse
> 
> please read at your own risk. this chapter is also longer than the others.

“I don’t know why you’re after me,” you started, shoes scuffing against the slushed pavement as you stepped backwards towards your weapon of choice. “I don’t understand what I’ve done to deserve something like this, this paranoia, this demented chase you seem to like-“

“You took my dog.” Klein told you, voice easily coming out, sounding like he’d spent years being charmer only to have the charisma shrivel and die when it suddenly stopped working when he’d met you. “I wanted him back, but you never returned him, so, now my problem isn’t him; it’s you. Interesting, isn’t it, how good things come to those who wait?”

“What are you _on?”_ You bit angrily, stepping back a bit more as he got closer, knowing you’d grab the bat but then soon be met with chain-link. “You sound psychotic, you’ve been _following_ me, _threatening_ me… and you think that’s okay?”

He was close enough now, you knew it, but he was getting too close. The knife he held glinted in the light and you swallowed harshly, eyes focused on the blade. “You think taking my dog is okay?”

“You were beating him!” You shouted angrily, hearing Rocco’s barking once more as you disturbed the night air. Your fingers grazed the baseball bat and, confidently, you grasped it, eyes moving to Klein’s face. “So, yeah, I do.”

He took a step closer, getting ready to strike just as you grabbed the bat, hefted it into your grip, and swung wide. Klein hissed as it connected with his side, not enough to knock the wind out of him, but hard enough to bruise. You felt it reach the gap between his waist and ribs, hearing it smack the flesh and fabric material there. You pulled the bat away and went to swing again, but he took the moment to rush forward, swiping at you with the knife.

You cried out as it ripped at your jacket, making indirect contact with your forearm as you pushed back against it with the free hand, taking your other to one-arm-swing the bat in his general direction. He pulled back as it came near him, giving you a split second to pull it back towards you, grasp it with both hands, and swing again. This time, you put all your weight behind him, watching the bat, and feeling it, make contact with Klein before he was sent into the brick wall and proceeded to crumple to the ground. 

You rushed to him and stomped on the hand holding the knife, hearing him yell in pain as he released it, trying to turn as you swung the bat low enough to send the knife somewhere near the far end, hearing it hit the chain-link fence. In a fit of adrenaline as your heart continued racing, eyes wide open, you raised the bat up over your head and brought it down. It felt like a hammer, in that moment, but you saw Klein roll out from under its path and to your horror, stand quickly.

Shakily, he moved towards you and then rushed you, his head knocking into your stomach as he tackled you. You felt your head hit the pavement first, air rushing out of your throat as you struggled to stand. You had dropped the bat during the tackle, hearing it clatter against the ground. Klein scrambled over you, reaching for the knife (he’d sent you back far enough to reach it) and raised it over his head.

You brought your forearms up to block it just as he brought his down to strike, causing you to struggle against him as he straddled you, the point of the blade nearing you. You cried out as it got closer, your own strength wearing down as he had the literal upper hand, gravity helping him as you pushed against him further. 

“I can’t believe this is over Rocco, you sick fuck! Just call the cops,” you screamed at him, your anger pulsing in your veins at the thought of what was _actually_ happening occurred to you. “I hope they’d arrest you for this-“

As Klein grinned sickly down at you, you heard something hit the pavement suddenly, and Klein turned to look behind him. Boots hitting the ground, heavy steps; ones you missed… you took the moment to push against the knife, the distraction giving you a bit more leeway. You pushed up once more, the knife knocking out of his grip before he turned back to you, hands fitting tightly around your throat to violently put all his body weight down on your throat, your vision getting black around the edges, your hearing made it sound as though you were under water.

The last thing you saw was the face of a man you missed and the feeling of air quickly entering your lungs as the man you hated was _hauled_ off you.


	36. sirens.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They don't just sing hypnotic songs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more violence ahead

Your vision came back to you as you violently coughed and pulled yourself upright, one hand behind you to hold yourself up as you sat there, your other hand massaging your throat. You watched in horror, and in triumph, as Frank grabbed Klein from where he’d thrown him after pulling Klein off you and picked him up. He grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the brick wall, a loud bone-crushing sound echoing through the alley along with Klein’s scream of pain as Frank released his anger.

Frank’s yelling was animalistic, something you’d never heard before in your life. It was… _terrifying._ You were in awe as Frank held tight to Klein and dropped his weight onto him, smashing his head into the pavement like a pumpkin on Halloween. You could still hear Rocco barking, but it was being drowned out by Frank as Klein stopped screaming as Frank kept yelling, the squelching sound making you sick to your stomach as you watched blood go _everywhere,_ including on you.

Frank left Klein in a disgusting pile and, with blood all over his face, came over to you and his hands were immediately on you, but it didn’t make you reel back in hate or distaste… no, you sank into his hands, practically melting as his face came close to yours, you spitting out something that _absolutely_ did not matter.

“You shaved,” you observed, tears gathering in your eyes. “And cut your hair.”

“It was too long, anyway,” he replied, wiping blood from off your face with his hands, his voice gruff as he looked you over. The two of you heard sirens, Rocco finally quieting down at the sound, “we can talk-”

“You came,” you cried softly, the wet finally leaking from your eyes as he nodded quickly, the blood all over him was mixing with the snow beneath him as it dripped from his skin. One of his large hands grabbed one of your smaller ones, pressing it to the cut on your arm, forcing the material of your jacket against the wound to keep the blood from flowing freely. “I didn’t-“

“I promised.” He told you, eyes fierce and full of rage, but full of… fondness, too. There was guilt somewhere in there, too, you didn’t know if _Frank Castle_ was capable of feeling that… but did it matter? _Shit,_ how did things even get to this? “But… I have to go.”

“I understand,” you nodded as he had, quickly, assuredly – you knew he’d be back. “Thank you, Frank.”

His fingers wiped your face once more as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lips smearing some of the blood there, and you weren’t sure if it was yours or Klein’s. He was gone the second after and you had to sit there and wait as the sirens drew nearer.

(This was going to be difficult to explain.)


	37. rumble.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A warm welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had this not been a slowburn fic, this... warm welcome would've been warmer ;)))

It was _3:02 AM_ when you heard a knock on your window, the breath being taken out of you at the sudden sound. You were already awake, much to your dismay, you clock having been altered permanently by Frank’s mental nighttime intrusions. Rocco yapped at the window, his body shifting off of your legs to see who the window tapper was.

You weren’t surprised as you went over to it and hauled the window up, the top-bar hitting the lock as you ushered the man through, rolling your eyes, “Frank, there’s a _door.”_

He scoffed as though nothing had happened, but his eyes flickered to yours when you said his _real_ name. He looked… cozy, and you wanted to melt into him the second he was, once more, taking up the swell of the tiny apartment.

“How’ve you…?” Frank started, voice low and gruff, that same melodic raspy and rough as it had always been – simply music to your ears. Your heart was racing, you wanted to be angry, you wanted to be sarcastic and you so _badly_ wanted to give him _hell_ but you couldn’t… not after everything… maybe that’s what prompted you to grab him and pull him towards you and, surely, this brick-wall of a man did not move easily but he let himself be rag-dolled towards you as you wrapped your arms tightly around him. You buried your head in the place where his neck met his shoulder and breathed in, smelling that _warmth_ he radiated. “You good?”

“Better now.” You mumbled, just standing there with your arms looped around him before his wrapped heavily around you, his all black clothing covering and enveloping you like a shadow. You hummed softly, just holding tight to him. “I missed you.”

Whatever he was _going_ to say caught in his throat and you heard (and felt) a deep rumble form in his chest at the affection and appreciation you were throwing his way.

 _Oh,_ you thought, _I could get use to that._


	38. bruises.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn't there for a new read, he was there for an old one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've tried posting this like six times djjdjdj

You were stood in the bookstore restocking a barren fiction shelf when the bell above the door jingled, the presence of someone. You turned slightly and saw Frank taking up the doorway, chest broad and shoulders wide as he took in a deep breath. He hadn’t been in the bookstore in a while, just your apartment when he decided the window was the appropriate method of entry. 

“Need a new read?” You rounded the bookshelf, becoming aware that he couldn’t see you til then. He only heard you and turned towards your voice, your smile bright as you walked over to him before you let out a gasp. “Christ, Frank – what happened to your _face?”_

“Nice t’see you, too.” He chuckled, all gravel rumbling deep in his chest. You carefully brought your hands up to his face, not realizing your proximity until you were gently turning his head from side-to-side to inspect the angry purple across his cheekbones, jaw, and nose. “Hey, it’s okay.”

You shook your head, taking in a shallow breath as you felt his large mitts wrap around your wrists, engulfing them warmly. 

“I’m okay, I mean it – shit like this? It happens,” he paused as you, without thinking, pressed your lips to the greener bruise on his cheekbone. You moved your hand from his neck and brought it up to push his hair out of his face, fingers grazing the deep cut along his hairline. He winced, but only in the slightest, and his hand squeezed tighter along your wrist. “You can keep on kissin’ them bruises better, I won’t mind…”

You rolled your eyes and laughed softly, the tension in the room positively heavy.


	39. trees.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something to that whole decorating thing.

There was a tree in the bookstore, right by the window, lights flickering gently on the timer as it reflected off the glass. Then, there was a tree upstairs in your apartment. Frank helped you put both up after dragging them out of storage down the street, double fisting the plastic trees as you laughed over some stupid ornament you wanted to show him, two boxes stacked in your arms as the two of you walked hastily through the cold, careful on the ice and snow.

“It looks okay,” Frank muttered, watching Rocco nudge at the ornament bells at the base of the trees, the ones you hung there to deter him from rifling through the tree itself. “I think I put too many up front.”

“Frankie,” _shit,_ you’ve never seen him move his head so fast to look at you. You took in a deep breath, smiling gently as you handed him a cup of microwaved hot chocolate, little marshmallows floating on the top. “It looks wonderful; besides, nobody is gonna be ogling the back of the tree.”

You knew _someone_ would be _ogling_ the back of _something_ because you felt his stare on your ass the moment you turned back to the kitchen, pulling your cardigan tighter around you as you dropped a few more marshmallows into your tan mug. (It had a little Rudolph on it.)

He rolled his eyes to himself, eyes moving back to the _dumb as shit_ reindeer ornament that happened to _shit_ candy cane pebbles.


	40. lap.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it was the holiday season that really brought out the Frank Castle you'd grown to adore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forty chapters and they haven't kissed but he's getting handsy? a mood!

He liked to pull you into his lap, now, for whatever reason. You didn’t ask and he didn’t bother to explain, but one night Rocco barked angrily at him because Frank had stolen your legs out from under the dog, pulling you carefully into his lap as you read some old Shakespeare play – _Much Ado About Nothing_ – out loud. 

“Frankie, you can’t hog me-“

“Can and will,” he replied, securing a heavily muscular arm around your waist. You glanced at him, nibbling at your lip as your eyes met his, his expression unreadable. Your own line of sight was obstructed from his eyes as he moved his head and looked for his mug of cocoa, something you were dead-set on pumping him full of, apparently, and brought it to his lips for a sip. 

The little marshmallows bumped against his plump lips and you found yourself staring, especially intrigued by the way his jaw moved as he drank the hot beverage. It looked so… _good?_ Chiseled and just about perfect, what a wonderful-

“Take a picture, baby, your eyes might leak outta your skull.”

“I would,” you replied, jabbing his unbruised ribs with your elbow, “but you won’t let me.”


	41. new.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sober...? You might have to take him up on that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 2019 i am so over 2018 i am so tired omg i wanna get fuckin donkey kicked already and it hasnt even been a whole day fjhfjfxjfhf

Christmas had come and gone and, fortunately, the end of the stretch of holidays was nearing its disastrous and overfilled end. New Year’s Eve was upon you like a cat on a mouse and, well… you rarely drank on holidays, perhaps a glass of wine here or there, maybe a beer, most likely something fruity – but still.

You got absolutely plastered on New Year’s Eve, squealing in delight next to Frank as the ball dropped and all that nonsense; you were draped over him, Rocco barking in unison with the fireworks as neighbors shouted _“Happy New Year!”_ out their doors into the snowy, dark streets of New York. 

(You even heard Gretchen from the coffee shop shout it as she locked up, having stayed open a bit late for those early drinkers or late-work stragglers.)

You looked at Frank, eyes big and smile wide. Your expression was relaxed, your body clinging to his for support; you were practically a ragdoll, at this point. “Wanna be my New Year’s smooch?”

He spared you the eyeroll, but you didn’t miss the quirk of his lips and the grin that pulled at them before his raspy voice buried your drunken request – “Sober, maybe?”

You could live with that.


	42. angel.

It was cheesy, you think, that both you and Frank got holiday gifts for each other _after_ the new year had begun. It also made a bit more sense, because you two just ate a lot and drank some (you more than him.) But it ultimately felt better, then, to focus on it. 

You’d given him his gift while he cooked, a towel over his shoulder as he moved quickly around the small kitchen. He was stirring, folding, grating cheese, adding extra spice, etc. all while you watched and held his gift in your lap, the oversized bow on top crinkling as you shifted it beneath the table. You asked if he wanted some wine, to which he agreed as he moved to grab plates, and you slipped the present into his chair before going for the bottled red.

As you turned, two glasses half-full, you saw Frank staring down at the box, plates in hand. You swallowed nervously, knowing that he mentioned not wanting anything when you offered. He set the plates down in their respective places before picking up the gift, eyes trained perfectly on the box. 

“I know you said-“ you started, watching his hand carefully pull back the bow, deft fingers peeling back the paper to slip the box inside, out. He then opened it carefully, the metallic, gunpowder-gray matching his expression. Grim, almost as if he was receiving a death notice. You felt anxiety bubbling deep in your chest, your heart aching at the possibility that, maybe… “But I saw it, it’s fragments of bullet casings pressed into angel wings… reminded me of you.”

He looked up at you, then, gaze flickering up to you as you held the wine. His eyes looked intense, in that moment, chocolate brown all-sparkle and bright and absolutely _fond_ (but you chose to ignore that.) 

“I love it.”


	43. unpunished.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You both got each other necklaces? Score!

Dinner was well-over, and the dishes were done as you were curled up on the couch, book in your lap with Rocco’s head just beneath it, his soft snores making your own eyes droop heavily. You felt a kiss press to the top of your head, moving slightly to look up, seeing Frank holding a small, leather box out to you. 

You folded the corner of the page you were on, closing the book as you sat the paperback next to you before fully turning your attention to the man. You took the box and gently opened it, seeing a simple, silver necklace with a thin chain of the same color looped deeper in the box. The necklace itself was in cursive, your eyes focusing on it easily.

“Good deed?” You whispered, fingerings grazing the lettering as Frank hummed in response. You looked at the writing for a moment longer before meeting his eyes again, “Is this a _Punisher_ joke, buddy?”

“I saw it, thought of you.” _You’re distancing yourself, Frank._ His lips twitched slightly, he was hiding a smile as you rolled your eyes and asked him to help you put it on. “Since we both went against our own rules, y’know…”

His thick fingers moved delicately along your neck, your own sweeping at the area for loose hairs as he messed with the clasp before pulling the chain along your neck, he clasped it, and let the chain slip down to rest properly on your neck. Your fingers moved from your hair and pressed to the lettering, eyes still heavy with sleep as Frank’s heavy, but still delicate, fingers left your neck.

A quick shiver ran down your spine at the feeling, something he noticed before he sat down next to you, all other lights off but the sofa’s side-lamp. He took the book away from the spot next to you before putting his arm up on the back of the couch, willing you to lean into his side, Rocco stirring, and moving with you.

(Maybe you were getting too comfortable, but so was he… there’s nothing wrong with that, though, right? _Right?)_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, as always.


End file.
